


Play

by signifying_nothing



Category: Haikyuu!!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: GoM - Freeform, M/M, alt title: why bokuto wears basketball style leg supports, relationships are only there if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 19:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: Akaashi is not unobservant at all, so when he sees that Bokuto is ignoring the way his phone has been vibrating for practically the last half an hour, he plucks it up from the bench out of habit and, heedless of Bokuto's shout of protest, answers in a quiet deadpan, “Bokuto Koutarou's phone, how can I help you.”Bokutocchi?





	Play

**Author's Note:**

> i've been rewatching KnB and i was thinking about bokuto's leg supports. this has the potential to be a series of one-shots, which could be fun, but i make no promises ever, so please enjoy this little slice of life type thing i've done here.

Akaashi does not think it is a coincidence that Bokuto Koutarou wears basketball-style leg supports when he shows up to volleyball practice. He doesn't talk about it much—the fact that he played two sports all through elementary and middle school, until volleyball finally took over his life in his final year. He doesn't talk about _why_ he doesn't play basketball anymore, but Akaashi Keiji is _not_ so unobservant to think that it's something Bokuto is happy about in any way, shape, or form.

Akaashi is not unobservant at all, so when he sees that Bokuto is ignoring the way his phone has been vibrating for practically the last half an hour, he plucks it up from the bench out of habit and, heedless of Bokuto's shout of protest, answers in a quiet deadpan, “Bokuto Koutarou's phone, how can I help you.”

_Bokutocchi?_

“No, this is Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto-san is in practice right now.”

_Ah, ah right, volleyball. Um, could you get him for me, please? It's kind of important._

“Hold on a moment.”

Akaashi puts down the phone and looks over at his friend, who is visibly uncomfortable with hard shoulders and stiff hips as he walks over and takes the phone in one sharp movement, pulling it to his ear and stalking out of the gym with a sharp, “What, Ryouta.”

Ryouta? Akaashi can't think of a single one of Bokutos friends (that he knows) by that name. Akaashi knows... All of Bokuto's friends, because Bokuto is exuberant and enthusiastic and talks a lot and can't help himself from oversharing. But he doesn't know _Ryouta._

So he watches quietly from the doorway as Bokuto talks on the phone, growing more tense and agitated with every passing second. He hears words, sentence fragments— _told you, don't play, don't want, god, fine—_ and by the time Bokuto has made his way back into the gym he's practically vibrating, his face set in hard, unfamiliar lines.

“Akaashi,” he says, throwing his phone to his bag. Akaashi can see that it's turned off. “Toss for me.”

Bokuto's form is sloppy, his movements erratic. There are no excited calls for _one more!_ Akaashi watches him hit spike after spike after spike like he's using the rhythm to forget something, and then... He just stops. He doesn't jump for the toss. He catches the ball instead, holds it in his hands and stares down at it like he expects it to be something else.

They've been alone in the gym for some time now, and Akaashi wonders if he's finally going to hear what's wrong in the world of his captain and friend.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Could you get me a basketball?”

“Bokuto-san?”

“I'll clean up out here.”

It's not really a request, so Akaashi nods and heads back into the storage room. The basketballs are lined up neatly on the racks and he picks one, its gold lettering still intact, its texture foreign under his fingers. Akaashi never played basketball outside of gym class.

He brings the ball out and waits until Bokuto has pushed aside the cart of volleyballs, waits until the net has been taken down to pass one to him, somewhat clumsily. Bokuto is... Amazingly graceful when he catches it, dribbles easily, moves, shoes squeaking.

Akaashi watches and it's like Bokuto is younger, suddenly. The ball moves easily under his big hands. He has control, grace and the movements come easy as he runs across the gym, jumps up—sinks the ball into the hoop and slams back down to the ground in the same motion he makes when he comes down from a spike.

It takes another half an hour of playing invisible opponents, of trick dribbling and sinking hoops, before Bokuto says anything else.

“I used to play,” he says, holding the ball, then bouncing it, as though he can't stand to have it sitting in his hand like a weight. “Basketball, I mean. I was pretty good. Not a genius, but pretty good.”

“I can see that,” Akaashi says, easily catering to Bokuto's need for the appearance of conversation even when he's monologuing. “That's where you got your leg support habit, then?” Bokuto nods.

“My last year, my school played Teiko.” Bokuto takes a deep breath and Akaashi thinks he looks like he might be sick. “You've heard of Teiko.”

Who in the realm of high school sports hasn't heard of Teiko? But that was three years ago, and everyone knows that monstrous team has been broken up, all of them going on to turn their own teams into armies to battle. Akaashi nods, watching attentively as Bokuto dribbles the ball between his legs, back and forth, fast and easy like he's never forgotten the motions, or the feel of the ball in his hands.

“We played Teiko.” Bokuto licks his lips. “We lost, of course. They almost doubled our score. I was...” he hesitates, sighing. “I was friends with Kise Ryouta, one of their starters. We'd been friends in elementary school, we kept in touch. He's a prodigy, you know. Like that setter on Karasuno.”

“Mm,” Akaashi nods again, sitting down on the bleachers to watch Bokuto perform the equivalent of pacing back and forth as he dribbles.

“It... It was bad, Akaashi. I mean, I'd already been playing volleyball, right, and I was _really_ good by then, but basketball... I dunno, I just loved it, you know? But that game...” Bokuto looks lost in thought and Akaashi wonders how bad it must have been to have Bokuto Koutarou speechless and fumbling. Bokuto shoots the ball into the hoop with a _swish_ of the net, jogging to retrieve it.

“We lost so bad,” Bokuto said, fidgeting. “It... It was so... And everyone, by the second half they just didn't see why they should bother, they had such a huge lead on us, and I...”

Akaashi can imagine it. He's seen Bokuto on a team full of people who were convinced they were going to lose, he's seen Bokuto as the guiding light that carried them even as the tides turned to victory with his confidence, his bravado and determination. He can imagine Bokuto, a struggling candle on a court of strong wind trying to keep his team afloat. Can see them letting go while Bokuto struggles to drag their weight.

“Anyway.” Bokuto licks his lips and shoots the ball again. “I started playing volleyball full time after that. It's better this way. I love volleyball. I love my team.” He smiles over at Akaashi. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replies, his heart warmed and reassured by the bright, silly grin on Bokuto's face. It's much better than that frustrated, pensive expression he was wearing not too long ago.

“I _know!_ ” Bokuto crows, hooping the ball again. He catches it, sighs. “Anyway. Kise—Ryouta. He just wants me to come hang out and play with him for a while, with a few of his friends. I just...” His face twists, and Akaashi stands up.

“I'll go with you if you want, Bokuto-san. He is your friend, after all.”

Bokuto, predictably, lights up with hope and excitement. “Really?!” he asks, and Akaashi nods, reaching out for the basketball, which is passed to him from Bokuto's chest in a strong, straight line.

“Of course. You should arrange a time with him. I'm free all weekend.”

“I'll... Yeah. I'll call him back. Thanks, Akaashi,” Bokuto jogs over and presses a dry kiss to Akaashi's temple. Akaashi smiles, rolls his eyes a little.

“Go on,” he says. “Finish putting the net away.”

“Yes boss!”

“Don't call me boss, Bokuto-san.”

“Of course, boss!”

~

Akaashi doesn't know what he was expecting this mid-morning Saturday but he has the feeling that being faced with seven men, half of whom are taller than he is, shouldn't have surprised him. They play basketball, after all. Bokuto is 6'1, but all of the other young men with weird hair—save for the tan one—are taller than he is. The mostly normal looking ones (Akaashi cringes internally at thinking of them as such, but _why_ is their hair so strange?!) are shorter than he is. He expects at least one of them to greet Bokuto with enthusiasm and isn't disappointed when the blond gets up from the bench and _launches_ himself at Bokuto, who looks awkward for only a moment before he smiles and pats him on the back in the way that he does when he isn't sure of how formal to be.

“Bokutocchi, it's so good to see you!”

“Aah,” Bokuto nods, and Akaashi wonders if he's the only one who can tell how uncomfortable Bokuto is. Probably. Bokuto puts on a pretty good face for everyone else. “It's good to see you too, Kise. So. What can I do for you?”

“We're gonna play, of course!”

“Ah, Kise, I don't—”

“And who's your friend? Oh, is this Akaashi-san? Hi!” Kise is a ball of bright yellow energy and Akaashi fights every instinct in his body which is telling him to back away, to create distance and find a good spot to defend from. He's never been very good with the extroverted types—Bokuto is an exception, not the rule, and even that is only because of Bokuto's inherent sensitivity. “It's nice to meet you too! I'm Kise Ryouta!”

“Ah,” Akaashi swallows, tries to remember how to speak with how absolutely overwhelmed he feels.

“This is Akaashi Keiji,” Bokuto says, saving Akaashi from any more awkward verbal fumbling. “He's my vice captain.”

“Ooh,” Kise nods, and his golden eyes are bright and curious. Akaashi can see how he and Bokuto would have been friends as children. They would have gotten into a lot of trouble. “In volleyball, right? That's _awesome._ So Bokuto is captain, huh? How the hell did a weirdo like you get to be captai— _ow,_ senpai!”

Akaashi is saved from Kise's scrutiny by a shorter man with dark hair and a very unimpressed look on his face.

“Oi, Kise. If we're gonna play, lets play. Or at least get the rest of us introduced before you weirdos take over the court and the rest of us are left sitting here.”

“Senpai,” Kise _pouts,_ and yes, Akaashi can definitely see how he and Bokuto were friends. “Aah, Akaashi-san, this is Kasamatsu, he's my senpai.”

“Kasamatsu Yukio,” Kasamatsu offers out his hand and Akaashi shakes it with a nod. “Here, come sit down. Let the freaks have the floor for a while.”

“ _Senpai._ ”

“I didn't say anything untrue,” Kasamatsu points out, and Kise sighs, sounding very heavily put-upon before heading out onto the court, slinging his arm around Bokuto's shoulder and talking animatedly as the... Boys with weird hair all head out with them. It leaves Akaashi with Kasamatsu and the other young man with dark hair, who offers his hand with a sly grin.

“Takao Kazunari,” he says, without hesitation. “Midorima's handler.”

“Midorima?” Akaashi asks, looking over at the group.

“The tall one in the white shirt,” Takao says, before snorting a little. “The tallest. One in the white shirt.”

“Aah,” Akaashi nods, sitting down and pushing back his hair as the group plays rock-paper-scissors to determine teams. “I see. And the rest of them?”

“The tan one with blue hair, that's Aomine Daiki,” Takao supplies. “And that's Kagami Taiga. Next to him is Kuroko Tetsuya, you already know Kise. And, what's your boys name?”

 _My boy?_ Akaashi thinks, blinking. “Ah, Bokuto Koutarou.”

“And he plays basketball? What school?”

“Volleyball, actually,” Akaashi says, almost primly. “For Fukurodani.”

“Aren't they a nationally ranked team?” Kasamatsu asks, and Akaashi nods.

“Yes. He's in the top five aces in the country.”

“Top _five,_ ” Takao whistles. “That's impressive. So why the heck is he here playing basketball? Does that mean you're the vice captain of the volleyball team?”

“Yes,” Akaashi says, watching as Bokuto settles into _play mode,_ his shoulders loose, his knees bent. He's been selected for the tip-off for his side—Kise, Midorima, and Bokuto. Midorima is taller but, as the redhead stands in front of him, Bokuto grins that grin, and Akaashi feels a sharp slice of satisfaction when Kuroko tosses the ball up and Bokuto _jumps._

 _That's my ace,_ Akaashi thinks with fierce pride as Bokuto tips the ball, dribbles it under his legs and passes it back to Kise. Akaashi knows next to nothing about basketball, but he can't help grinning when Kasamatsu whistles.

“That was some jump,” he says, and Akaashi looks over at him with the smallest of smiles.

“Yes,” he says. “It was.”

It's hardly all Bokuto can do, though. As Akaashi watches he can see how much Bokuto is enjoying himself, how much _fun_ he's having. He's outclassed by his opponents, he has to use all of his rusty skills and teamwork abilities but he's having a good time, and that brings Akaashi no small amount of relief because he had honestly been worried that this might not go so well. When Takao calls the first half over, Bokuto bounces over and takes the water bottle Akaashi offers him with a grin.

“You're very good, Bokuto-san,” he says, and Bokuto laughs.

“They're all better than me,” he replies, pushing back his hair. It's fallen from it's style, loose and sweaty against his forehead but he's grinning. “It's fun, Akaashi.”

“We should take them to play volleyball afterward,” Akaashi says. “I brought my ball.”

“We'd crush them,” Bokuto crows as Akaashi gives him a towel to wipe his face.

“I'm okay with that,” Akaashi points out, and Bokuto stares at him for a moment before he doubles over then throws his head back in hysterical laughter.

“ _Hey hey hey_ , there's my vice captain! Feeling a little _competitive,_ are we Akaashi?”

Akaashi blinks slowly and schools his face into absolute neutrality. “I can hardly contain myself, Bokuto-san.”

“After,” he promises, still grinning as he gives back the water bottle and towel. “You can toss to me. I'll show them who's boss.”

“Of course, Bokuto-san.”

For the rest of the game, Akaashi pays more attention to the other players. He wonders how it is that Midorima got such impressive strength in his arms—how incredible would it be to be able to set from the back row like that, with such ease? He finds himself imitating the hand motions of the tall man, wondering if he could set with the same kind of motion. He watches—or, tries to watch—Kuroko pass the ball. _Misdirection,_ Kasamatsu calls it. Drawing attention away from himself. Akaashi isn't sure it would work with a setter—the ball has to come to him, and he has to touch it. It's still very interesting, to say the least. Nevermind the sheer power and intensity given off by Kagami and Aomine, who are just... Monstrous. They're worse than Ushijima.

The game ends. Bokuto's team loses, but only by one point, and everyone seems in good spirits.

“Oi, Kise,” Bokuto says, wiping down his face. “Come on, come play with me and Akaashi.”

“Eh? But I don't know anything about volleyball!”

“All you have to do is block the ball! Come on, there are nets over there—tell you what. If you can block me ten times, I'll buy you and Kasamatsu-san dinner.”

“Can we come watch?” Kuroko asks, and Akaashi manages not to jump as he turns to one side and looks down at him.

“I don't see why not,” he says, and all of them stare at him for a long moment of silence.

“What,” he asks, but all he gets in response is laughter and a few waves of hands. Bokuto leads them over to the volleyball court, explaining to Kise that all he has to do is jump and block the ball from hitting the other side.

“We're not gonna bother with, with an actual game,” Bokuto says. “Since you don't know anything about it. It's just blocking practice!” Bokuto is sweating through his t-shirt and shorts, his leg supports must be itching by now, but Akaashi can't bring himself to stop his friend. Bokuto is bright and happy and he just wants to let him have his fun for a while. With nationals right around the corner, it's good for him to relax. It's good for him to _play_.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto calls, and Akaashi can't help but smile. It's Kise and Aomine on the other side of the net—and as he sets the ball, a bit high and close, he can see the fierce gleam in Bokuto's eyes as he _slams_ the ball right past their hands to the other side, grinning maniacally as he lands and throwing his firsts up with his characteristic, _hey hey hey!!_

“What was _that?!_ ” Kise asks, grinning too, his eyes bright. “ _Wow,_ Bokutocchi!”

Akaashi sets the ball from a different position. Bokuto rockets a tight inner cross right past Aomine's face.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, spinning the ball. “Maybe we should teach them how to serve and receive. That could make it more fun.” He pauses. “They're all prodigies, right? They'll learn quickly. Besides, it's more fun when you know what you're doing.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon showing the group of strangers how to serve, receive, and block properly. It _is_ a good time, and it is a lot of fun. Akaashi and Bokuto are still unbeatable, but that doesn't matter. Bokuto is enjoying himself. That's what Akaashi cares about right now.

By the end of the day Kise is complaining about how much his body hurts, though he's grinning. He slings an arm around Bokuto's neck and makes him _promise_ to pick up the phone when he calls. They all part with friendly goodbyes and Akaashi leaves with Kasamatsu's phone number—and Takao's, though he suspects that Takao might just want to talk shop on _handling a weirdo_ every once in a while, which is fine. Takao is sly and clever and Akaashi likes him. Likes the way he deals with Midorima, who is _entirely_ too serious and _absolutely_ strange, in Akaashi's opinion.

Bokuto and Akaashi head back to Akaashi's place, which is closer, to shower and change. They shower together, chaste as they always are, and when they are re-dressed and comfortable they flop onto Akaashi's large bed, just tangled up together.

“...Thanks for coming today, Akaashi,” Bokuto mumbles into his hair. “I really didn't... Want to see Kise by myself.”

“I know,” Akaashi says, rubbing his thumb across the skin of Bokuto's arm. “It's all right, Bokuto-san. I'm glad you had a good time.”

“I did,” he laughs. “Especially when you did that toss from the back! You looked like Midorima, with your hands!”

“I bet I can master that,” Akaashi says. “I'm not sure how long it will take, but imagine the stress of that. Seeing the ball go so high, knowing where it's going and not being able to stop it because it's coming from a wing spiker with more strength in his arm than your entire team.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto laughs. “You are so vindictive.”

“I like to win,” Akaashi replies. “If I have a psychological advantage, so be it.”

“So cold!!”

They spend the evening watching youtube videos on Akaashi's bed, and Bokuto is asleep before Akaashi can ask if he wants to go home. His breathing is heavy and slow, and Akaashi sighs, pulling the blankets around them as well as he can. He can't blame Bokuto for being exhausted—he's pretty tired, too. He tucks himself in and closes his eyes; Bokuto's rhythmic breathing and the rise-fall of his shoulder puts Akaashi right to sleep.

 


End file.
